


2018 Fictober Drabble Collection

by AuditoryCheesecake



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, Generally Canon, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 07:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17018616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuditoryCheesecake/pseuds/AuditoryCheesecake
Summary: This was 2nd year in a row I took the Inktober prompt list and twisted it to my own nefarious ends! I didn't quite stick to one 100-word drabble every day, but at the end of the month, there were 31, so here they are now, all in one place.





	1. Poisonous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adaar and Lace, learning lessons.

Lace shook her head. “No. If you get sick when it bites you, it’s venomous.”

“It can’t bite me, Harding, it’s a mushroom.”

“Exactly. It’s not venomous. So it’s…” Lace gestured at the little red toadstool, letting the Inquisitor finish the sentence.

“So it’s… ” Adaar squinted at the mushroom, then back at Lace. “safe to eat?”

Lace just sighed.

“This is why I like markets,” Adaar said petulantly. “All the poisons are labeled and cost so much you don’t want to buy them. If you told me this mushroom cost eight sovereigns an ounce, I’d know not to eat it.”


	2. Tranquil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A giant, stolen from his home in the Emerald Graves.

This place had been good. He had walked among the trees, the sun and the wind and the rain all one to them. Old and tall, the trees had sung to them. The soft daily rustle of their leaves, the long, slow harp of growing wood, the secret beat of water against roots. He had raised his herd, helped the little mothers as they calved in the spring, and he loved to watch them race and play and learn. He had not heeded the little men, until they brought their screaming Stone into his place, and made him eat it.


	3. Roasted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, Bull, Varric, and corn.

“You’re well-traveled. Surely you’ve encountered maize before. The Anderfels have exported it to Tevinter for ages.”

The stubborn set of Bull’s jaw bodes ill.

“I’ve seen you pull bottles off of corpses, yet this is where you draw the line?”

“Booze’s always booze. Never had this before, might not be good for me.”

Dorian glances across the fire at Adaar, who is devouring a third helping with gusto.

“Might be a slow-acting poison.”

“Just eat it,” Varric says at last. “You don’t want to fight a dragon on an empty stomach, do you, Tiny? They’re not picky eaters at all.”


	4. Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, learning a new language.

Qunlat is unlike any other language in Thedas, which is as expected as it is deeply frustrating. His three tongues: Dwarven, ancient Tevene, and Trade, their bastard child, all share common elements. They are rigid and square, built on the same solid lines and sharp corners. Qunlat is all curves and flowing lines, beautiful but strange.

The first words he writes look like art, round and long, but he has no idea if they mean anything. He practices until he can hear them in his head as he writes, until he knows exactly what they mean when they are spoken.


	5. Chicken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cole, the Iron Bull, and an unfamiliar turn of phrase.

”You don’t have feathers, The Iron Bull.”

Cole, Dorian thinks, has mastered the non-sequitur.

“True.”

“Then why did Krem call you a chicken?”

Bull chuckles. “He was just giving me a hard time about not talking.”

“Chickens are afraid of eagles and thunderstorms, not talking.” Cole pauses thoughtfully. “They can’t talk.”

“Who said anything about afraid?”

“Retreat, rejection, regret. What if he doesn’t want me when I tell him?”

Dorian steps forward, hand out to stop Cole even as he vanishes. Bull’s eye slides sideways, guilty.

“You needn’t say things that frighten you,” Dorian says. Although one of them should.


	6. Drooling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Zevran, in camp.

Alistair paused in shaking out his bedroll, suddenly aware that he was being watched. He swiped at the damp corner self-consciously.

“Barkspawn drools,” he told Zevran, who just nodded and kept watching him. “A lot.”

Did he have something on his face? He swiped at his hair. He knew it never stood right first thing in the morning.

Zevran smiled, and Alistair tried not to stop breathing. That would probably be rude. “I’d tolerate more than saliva in order to stave of the chill of these Fereldan nights.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” He laughed awkwardly.

Zevran’s eyes never wavered. “Indeed.”


	7. Exhausted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, at the end of a long day.

They had walked today. The trails were too treacherous to ride, so they had walked.

It’s a sign of something that Dorian refuses to examine that his own aches and pains and the split sole of his right boot are not, in fact, foremost in his mind. He ladles stew, thick and steaming, into a bowl, and crosses the camp. Bull takes the bowl with a quiet nod. They are all quiet tonight. Dorian sits beside him, and lets himself sag against the Bull’s broad arm. The sun sets and darkness creeps across them, but he doesn’t feel the cold.


	8. Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dagna, Sera, and the sky.

She’s still getting used to looking up and not seeing stone. Even on the the surface, she’d spent most of her time inside the Circle, pouring through the libraries and picking the brains of anyone who would let her, from Grand Enchanter on down. She had wanted to know everything, and the sky had not been at the top of the list.

But here, the sky is everywhere, and so are the stars. Dagna sits on the roof with Sera, who tells stories and steals kisses as Dagna slowly catalogs each star above them and each freckle on Sera’s face.


	9. Precious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne, and a ring.

She had kept four petals, all these years, first pressed and dried and then, as they crumbled into pale pink dust, she’d made a little gem out of them and set it in a ring. A thoroughly romantic foolishness, she has worn it every day since. It had always made him laugh.

She turns the narrow band around her finger as they ride away from the Ghislain estate, thumb catching on the round little pearl.

She will miss Bastien. She had loved him, and he her. No one else in Thedas had given her flowers just to see her smile.


	10. Flowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera, and a flask of lightning.

It can’t stop moving. If it falls still for more than two calm heartbeats (five fighting) it freezes up and goes off, all spark and sizzle. It’s still so far from being done with, and she loves that. It’s the experimenting, the tinkering, the accidents that make her hair stand up and the ones that burn off her eyebrows. And then– when it clicks, when she get it right– it’s like everything goes backwards! Like the ground holds her down less, like her bow is pulling her, like the lightning is moving through her, bringing her to where it is.


	11. Cruel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, ruminating.

That’s what they’ve always said, isn’t it? “One must be cruel to be kind.” They mean: “tell her the truth about that hat because she might think it complements her complexion but the gossip columns won’t,” or “his poetry is more likely to frighten his beloved than entice them, and he should know that before he damns all chance of romance to the Void.”

But doesn’t it sometimes mean that kindness itself is the cruelty? Consider: gentle hands that never touch him after he pulls away. Or even: honest, open friendship. And that most unforgivable of sins: making him hope.


	12. Whale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera and Dorian, on a boat.

Dorian is belowdecks, but Sera leans over the rail and breathes deeply. The ocean stretches on forever, and the spray hits her face as the boat crests a little wave. The sails tower above her, colorful and full. Rich nobs can be good for some things, if you’re friends. And Josie is her friend, weird as that is.

A shape breaks the surface of the water directly in front of her, gray and wide. Bigger than a giant, it sprays a spout of water into the air and dives back down. She dashes down to Dorian’s cabin, bursting with excitement.


	13. Gaurded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra, who has a secret.

There’s a locked drawer in Cassandra’s desk. The unassuming key hangs with its fellows on her belt, hidden in plain sight.

The book locked in that drawer is not her diary, that’s under her pillow, but the handwriting inside is hers. The tale starts in the halls of a palace and ends on a mountainside, filled with blood and treachery, loyalty and ambition, told in her own inelegant words. It is not a story she’s eager to share. There is a thread within the narrative that twists and turns, but leads in one direction, where it tangles, inexorably, with another.


	14. Clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine, remembering.

Josephine’s mother had been proud of the dwarven timepiece that they displayed in the formal dining room beside the portrait of a great-great aunt with an Orlesian mask, but no one had ever really looked at it. The sun, the chantry bells, and the height of the water on the docks had been all anyone needed.

Fereldan mostly uses candles, smoky tallow columns with notches and intricate markings to count down the hours. It seems a very subjective way to keep time. She misses the smell of the sea and how the waves had lapped at the shore at sunrise.


	15. Weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine, underestimated.

Strange, to be a diplomat among warriors. Advantageous, when she is thought less dangerous because her weapons are not made of steel. Annoying, when even her friends mistake caution for ineffectiveness. Infuriating, to be the perpetual kitten, to be considered weak.

As if she has not bought them victories before blood is spilled, as if she has not gained them welcome to places they could never take by force. As if they do not know better. As if they do not ply her with gifts and claim to value her. As if they do not know what she can do.


	16. Angular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine, watching Cassandra.

She watches Cassandra sigh and nod to a saluting soldier who sees only her armor, her stoic expression, and not the way that candlelight can soften her face. They don’t know the quiet way she laughs. She loves how that seems to only be for her, but sometimes it seems unfair to keep such a treasure for herself.

She has many tools that she will use to her advantage, but– perhaps Cassandra’s private smiles are too potent a weapon. Perhaps the way she watches her friends when they can’t see her is too precious a thing for Josephine to share.


	17. Swollen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, Bull, and a river on the Storm Coast.

He stares sullenly at the river in front of them, reluctant to cross. His boots are already soaked, of course, but it’s the principle of the thing. The water is fast, crashing over rocks that could slip under his feet.

Bull’s boots are planted on the riverbed, the water barely reaching his knees, his smile wide though the water must be frigid. He steadies Vivienne and Cadash as they inch along a fallen log and laughs at something one of them says, sound lost in the noise of river and rain. He sees Dorian watching and holds out his hand.


	18. Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Krem, Lace, and a contested chair.

“You’re drinking all that on your own?”

Krem blinks at scout Harding, who’s lounging on his favorite chair. It has a good view of the left side of the tavern and the front door, while the Chief watches the second floor and the bar. “That’s my chair.”

“It’s the Inquisition’s chair.” She crosses her legs and looks up at him, expression guileless and an obvious trap. “But I’ll share the Inquisition’s chair with you if you share the Inquisition’s wine with me.”

He glances around for help and sees none. He sits gingerly on the the corner of the chair.


	19. Scorched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dragon, in her home.

The dragon has been in this valley for long enough to nest and hatch her eggs. The ground shows that, the grass smoldering and most of the trees burned by the little ones as they learn to control their gifts. She sits on her favorite perch and watches them. It is a good brood, numerous, strong, and growing, and they fill the valley with their chirps. One day her daughters may be as tall as her, and the thought fills her with pride, but for now they and their smaller brothers bask in the sun and grow strong and learn.


	20. Breakable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Bull, and old hurts.

He hates waking up. It’s like a thousand stars joining– burning pinpricks of light that blur and burst and bleed together into a single constellation: him. The dull ache behind his eye, the slow paper-tear of his back, the bright sun inside his knee, the ropes that run up and down from it, tensing his foot and his thigh in new and excruciating ways every morning.

He hates how, when waking, the clean, sharp cuts of yesterday’s battle become muddy, raw aches and bruises, fading into the background hum of existence. He hates how new pain so quickly grows old.


	21. Drain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, in Orlais.

The bath has grown tepid, but he doesn’t want to move. He leans back against the side of the tub and stares up at the ceiling. The sun has slid downward, and the stained glass window makes strange colored shapes on the stone. Orlais maybe a gaudy shithole, but they do understand indoor plumbing, which arguably puts them a step above Ferelden’s copper tubs and kettles. It’s nothing in comparison to a true bathhouse, of course, with a proper pool for each stage of true cleanliness. He swirls his finger through the water, heating it to a tolerable temperature again.


	22. Expensive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dagna, who got paid so much for working with the Inquisition. Wow.

First, she buys herself a new set of tools, but the Lady Ambassador threatens to compensate the cost, since she’s making stuff for the Inquisition. Then she starts buying nicer clothes, but she barely wears them because she’s at the forge everyday. A waterclock purchased from Orzamaar turns into a favor from a Paragon somewhere along the way. A new pair of goggles sets off a stream of gifts. Even the ship’s spyglass, repurposed to examine stars and the Breach, winds up quietly repaid, and Dagna simply can’t use all the money herself.

The solution is obvious: spoil her friends.


	23. Muddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull and Dorian, neither hurt.

He does not drop his axe, watching the last corpse as it hisses and smolders. This time, it stays down. He sits heavily, propping himself against the embankment. The Exalted Plains are the worst place so far.

“Are you hurt?” Dorian’s white robes are spattered with dirt. Maybe they’re already ruined and that’s why he kneels in the mud next to Bull.

He shakes his head. Dorian fumbles with a potion, curses, and pulls his glove off, metal tips clattering on the ground.

“Drink this,” Dorian commands. There’s dirt on his face, but he looks whole. Bull takes the bottle.


	24. Chop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, Sera, and impulsive aesthetic choices.

“Hold still.”

“You should have got some whatsits with diamonds.”

“Had you not ambushed me midevening, perhaps I could have.” She elbows him.

“This is taking so long.” She glances at the mirror. “It looks the same.”

“I’m not a professional.”

“Obviously.” She fluffs up the back of her hair and examines her reflection. “Change the front. Above my eyes.”

“Those will just have to grow out, I think. We could pin them back?”

“Wait.” She grins. “Cut it all off.”

Dorian stops, scissors in hand. “No.”

“I’ll look badass! Do it.”

“No.”

“Yes. Take it all off!”

Dorian sighs.


	25. Prickly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull, Dorian, and a flower.

The expression on Dorian’s face is one of complete bafflement, and he’s glad that he waited until everyone else was ahead of them. Not because he’s ashamed of giving Dorian gifts, even flowers, but because Dorian looks… not even angry, just confused.

Bull moves to take the flower back, but Dorian steps away, out of his reach. He looks at Bull’s face searchingly. “Thank you.” It’s cautious, quiet.

Bull lets him walk ahead, back to the others, and they don’t talk about it. He sees the flower again, a few nights later, a little crushed but whole, on Dorian’s desk.


	26. Stretch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull, Dorian and morning routines.

His shoulder pops, and then something low in his spine, as he rests his hands on the wall and bends. He lowers his arms down until his palms are on the floor. He has to bend his knees a little, but a few deep breaths bring him through it. He counts them, taking his time, then straightens his back.

Bull sits on the floor, facing the foot of the bed. Dorian puts a hand on his shoulderblades, just enough pressure, and picks up his book again.

“Two paragraphs,” Bull says, sinking into the stretch as Dorian starts to read aloud.


	27. Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Bull, and a summer storm.

The storm rumbles lowly, a mountain away. Summer in Skyhold is a strange time. Muggy, still air hangs oppressively over the fortress, like it got partway through warming up and lost its motivation, just like him. He stands on the battlements and watches the clouds roiling behind the western peaks, looming high over the mountains, undoubtedly dumping barrels full of rain on Orlais. He wishes for a breeze, any movement of the heavy air around him. Nothing comes, just the faint flash of lightning miles away.

Summer storms were common on Seheron, fierce and powerful, but he doesn’t miss them.


	28. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, and magic.

Like music, Mother said. Excellence in magic comes only through practice. Like any dutiful son, he had obeyed, and he had flourished. He’d sought out the densest tomes and most esoteric subjects, chasing excellence. Not the best way to make friends, showing off like that, but a good way to impress. A good way to make sure people are watching when it all finally comes crashing down.

They don’t watch so closely, here in the South. What was impressive is now terrifying, begrudging acknowledgment of his control has become open distrust. And yet, how freeing, to be told the truth.


	29. Double

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baron Plucky, and his Nightingale.

He’s not pleased to be pressed into duty when he’s already been retired for years. He’s gotten used to the soft life, bits of meat and a Nightingale to stroke his feathers. He’s fathered broods of his own, rude bundles of feathers and nerve who come croaking to him for favors like humans at a throne.

He fixes his Nightingale with a disproving eye as she ties a message on his leg. She crumbles a scone in her hand. “Bring this to her,” she whispers into his feathers. “Find her, and there’s two more of these waiting at your return.”


	30. Jolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, worried.

He should expect it, after a while, and still, when it is here, the fear is as fresh and suffocating as the first time he saw Bull fall. His hands are trembling, magic racing over his knuckles and crackling between his fingers as he reaches out toward Bull’s face. He’s so still, dust and blood cake the side of his head, a deep gouge in his left horn. Do those heal? His fingers shake and he cannot touch Bull’s skin. What if–?

One purple spark jumps the gap from his fingertip to Bull’s lips. His whole face scrunches up, alive.


	31. Slice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian, Bull, and a tiny assassin.

"Hold still or you’ll just make it worse.”

“I’m doing my best, but I currently have five tiny knives stuck in the underside of my foot–”

Bull shushes him. He actually puts a finger over Dorian’s lips and says, “Hush. Stop shouting. You’re scaring her.”

Dorian opens his mouth to tell Bull exactly what he thinks of that when the pain vanishes. Not completely, but the kitten his been removed from his toes. “I’m bleeding.”

Bull cradles the little beast and strokes her under her chin. “You’ll be fine.”

“Fetch the bandages.”

“I’ve got you.” Bull smiles. Maybe he does.


End file.
